Happily Ever After
by kateriya
Summary: Leon wonders about the Count. Slight shonen-ai; don't be fooled by the title.


Title: Happily Ever After  
  
Author: mei-chan  
  
Spoilers: Book 10 of the manga, D's *cough* origins, who's Chris. The end of the manga.  
  
Keywords: Leon pov, hints at shonen ai, angst, a fragment of mei-chan's imagination and lazy-ass, temperamental muse  
  
Disclaimers: I don't own Petshop of Horrors *cries* Petshop of Horrors and its characters belong to Akino Matsuri. This is a piece of fanwork, written for leisure and not profit.  
  
Author's notes: With this fic I'm assuming that the picture Chris drew of D, Leon, himself and the pets managed to find its way back to D. This is from the last page of book 10, where Chris asks D's "son" (Baby D, or Papa D reincarnated ^_-) whether the picture got back to Count D. And don't be fooled by the title.  
  
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I'll never forget that picture, not for the rest of my life. Even though the carefully kept piece of paper is no longer with me, the details are firmly imprinted on my mind. One might say it's because it's Chris' work. Hell, on good days I think that too. But on days like this, where the rain is incessantly pouring, the sky blotted out but for a mass of water droplets, bright lights of the LA cityscape hidden behind diffusing effects of rain, the truth surfaces past the lie, returning to haunt me.  
  
Haunt me like you do. Like you do, because no matter what I try, what I do, you remain in my thoughts, not one day passing where some part of my mind is not occupied with you, not one day passing where the image of you does not flash – and linger – across my memory; where treacherous memory does not recall the silky, caressing quality of your voice. Anger, regret, pain, loss. You name it, I've felt it. All due to you.  
  
Jill calls me a lovesick puppy sometimes. Perhaps. Yet there are times I cannot sort out my emotions. Hate? Love? I don't know. All I can tell is, my life's had much more confusion since the day I stormed into the shop trying to bully my way to the answers I wanted. I don't know when I realized it…perhaps they began from the first time I saw that smile. A half- smile, provocative yet superior, beautifully mysterious. Enigmatic, double- edged, undeniably attractive.  
  
Exquisite, penetrative eyes that hold unspeakable charm and promise, while at the same time shielding secrets normal, discerning people would shy away from. Eyes hidden behind a curtain of smooth, black hair, hair that's always in place, every strand falling perfectly; hair I want to feel my fingers running through, to experience the texture of. A sculpted face, fair porcelain skin I want to linger upon, every time we touch, however briefly.  
  
I recall the times we argued. Or rather, the times I argued while you sat drinking tea and smiling that evasive smile. I actually enjoyed those times, because it meant I had a reason to keep my eyes on you but not seem to have questionable motives. Only at that time I was unaware, unaware of how I felt, why I did it, why I just kept coming back, case or no. Even now I remain unsure. Something more than a crush? An obsession gone so deep I read too much into it? Questions unanswered.  
  
I sent the picture back to you. You'd almost lost your life – not that it would be easy for anyone to kill you, upon reflection – to protect it, and I figured it meant that much. So I hired people to get it back to you. I don't want your location, it was evident you didn't want me to know. In fact, I don't even know for sure if the picture got delivered. The people I hired could have tossed the picture aside, waited a period of time, then told me a lie to get their pay. It'd make sense; no one can locate you unless you wish them to.  
  
But I want to believe that you got it back. Self-denial? Perhaps. I'm used to it anyway, ever since I met you. Afraid to probe deeper, afraid of what I'd discover about myself.  
  
Terrified of admitting.  
  
Although if I hadn't been such an idiot, I wouldn't be here now, watching the sky through the rain. Then again, it might have been tears, but I'm too numb to care. Not anymore.  
  
I'm pathetic, you know that? They thought something happened to me at the building when I refused to get out of bed after…after you pushed me off. That I had internal injury or something. They weren't too far off – something did happen to me.  
  
You left.  
  
Jill would laugh if she knew.  
  
Happily ever after.  
  
Not for fools like me.  
  
~owari~ 


End file.
